


Saving It for Later

by Domeaspreadsheet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, How is that not a tag, Kilt Sex, Kissing, M/M, honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domeaspreadsheet/pseuds/Domeaspreadsheet
Summary: Louis stands right behind Harry, lube in hand, but makes no move to touch.“Do you know how good your calves look in this? And your back? It’s unfair. Thank god you didn’t wear this on stage.” He pauses. “You didn’t wear this on stage, right?”Harry chuckles lowly. “No. I wanted to, but Clare talked me out of it. Said the theater would collapse.”Louis pinches his hip. “Remind me to thank Clare for saving you from yourself. Honestly, Harry.”-Harry wants a kilt, and Harry gets what he wants.





	Saving It for Later

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one go, so please be kind. I didn't know how much I needed Harold in a kilt until now. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Elizabeth](http://polkadotsvstripes.tumblr.com) for the quick beta! 
> 
> And for my dash begging for a fic of Harry in a kilt - I hope this makes you all happy!

“Do you like my kilt?”

Louis rolls over on the bed to see Harry standing in the doorway of the en suite with a towel wrapped around his waist, a few stray water droplets still clinging to his chest. 

“Harry, that’s a towel. It doesn’t even have stripes or a pattern or whatever it is that kilts are supposed to have.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a _makeshift_ kilt, Lou. We just watched _Outlander_ last night, I haven’t had time to get a real one yet. Also, I don’t know what color I want. Any suggestions?” 

“Yet? You really want to get a kilt?” Louis wants to make fun of him, he does, but...that actually sounds kind of hot. You don’t wear underwear with a kilt, right? Could be promising. 

“I verra much want to get a kilt, verra convenient for ridin’ they say,” Harry says, just barely making it to the end of his sentence before bursting into laughter. 

Louis is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes. “Think your accent needs some work there, lad. Get your makeshift kilted arse over here, let’s watch another episode.”

-

Harry stands in his dressing room before the show in Glasgow, looking at the box sitting on his couch. The label reads “To Harry, from the Glaswegian Aunties.” He doesn’t think he knows any Glaswegian Aunties, but he opens the box to see a primarily red tartan fabric. He’s just running a finger over it, when someone knocks on his door.

“Harry, you in there?” Clare calls.

He opens the door and she breezes in, clapping her hands twice when she sees the box. “Oh good!”

“You know about this, d’you?” Harry asks, amused.

“I mentioned to my aunties you wanted a kilt, and they got you one,” Clare answers, as if that should be obvious.

Harry holds it up. “D’you think I should wear it on stage tonight?”

“If you do that, please let us all know in advance so we can do an extra shot or five. The screams would make this theater collapse, and we’re not going out sober.”

Harry laughs, “Okay, okay, fair point. Are your aunties here? Will you introduce me? I want to thank them.”

“Sure, but they also told me to get you to make fun of them on stage. And no, I didn’t ask any questions. Their names are Margaret and Jackie, and they should be in the kitchen.”

-

During the show, Margaret winks at him and shouts, “Where is your kilt?” 

“I’m saving it for later, darlin’!” Harry answers. And if he throws Clare a tiny bit under the bus as a distraction, well. The screams were deafening just at the _mention_ of him in a kilt. Clare had been right.

-

It’s not too late when Harry leaves the theater, anxious to get back to Louis at the hotel. 

He opens the door, kilt hidden under his hoodie, and sees Louis laying on top of the covers, pillows propped up behind him, playing a game on his iPad. 

“Hey Lou,” he says, crossing the room to give him a peck on the lips. 

“How was the show? Only caught a bit on a livestream and it was shit quality.” 

“It was good! I’m gonna shower and then I have a surprise for you, won’t be long.”

Louis levels a look at him, brow arched. “A surprise? I’ll be patient for,” he looks at the clock and then back at Harry, “fifteen minutes.” 

Harry is already off across the suite, and closes the door behind him, locking it for good measure. Louis can’t see it before he even gets it on, where’s the fun in that? 

He’s just dried off and is stepping into the kilt when he hears Louis yell through the door, “Harry, hurry up! M’bored!”

He runs his fingers through his hair one last time and opens the door, trying to affect an air of nonchalance.

“Get yer knickers out of a twist there, lad, m’right here,” Harry says, in his best approximation of a Scottish accent. The aunties had had a field day trying to teach him earlier. 

Louis gapes at him, quickly closing his mouth. “I assumed this was coming, but. You look so hot, god.”

Harry walks across the room, stopping to pose every few feet so Louis can see the kilt from all angles. 

“Harry, can you just come over here now?” Louis whines.

“Dinna rush me, m’having fun,” Harry says on a twirl, the red patterned fabric swirling around his knees. 

“Watches two episodes of _Outlander_ and thinks he can do the accent,” Louis mutters.

“I heard that, and it doesna bother me,” Harry says, climbing onto Louis to straddle his lap. “I dinna think it bothers you either,” he smirks, wiggling to feel Louis half hard in his joggers underneath him. 

Louis gasps, “Yeah, okay, this is hotter than it has any right to be, you look _so good_.”

“Yeah? M’I a bonny lad?” Harry asks, winking. 

“You can be whatever kind of lad you want, as long as I get some action out of it. I seem to remember you saying kilts were “verra convenient for ridin’’ Harold, feel like testing that out?”

Harry circles his hips on Louis with more force in response, and lets out a small groan. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

Louis leans up to catch his lips in a filthy kiss, pushing his hips up to grind against Harry.

He pulls back and says raspily, “Get up and bend over the bed, love, let’s see what this looks like from behind.”

Harry scrambles to comply, planting his feet on the ground and wiggling his hips in Louis’ direction while he waits on him to retrieve the lube from the suitcase. 

Louis stands right behind Harry, lube in hand, but makes no move to touch. 

“Do you know how good your calves look in this? And your back? It’s unfair. Thank god you didn’t wear this on stage.” He pauses. “You didn’t wear this on stage, right?” 

Harry chuckles lowly. “No. I wanted to, but Clare talked me out of it. Said the theater would collapse.”

Louis pinches his hip. “Remind me to thank Clare for saving you from yourself. Honestly, Harry.”

Louis carefully flips the bottom of the kilt up to expose Harry’s bare arse, and drags a finger over one cheek. “See you’ve followed tradition here.”

“Aye,” Harry says on a harsh exhale. “Gettin’ a hell of a cockstand, too.” 

Louis can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Did you Google ‘sexy Scottish phrases’ or summat?”

“No,” Harry pouts. “The aunties taught me some.”

“We,” Louis says, landing a smack on Harry’s left arse cheek, “are talking about whatever _that_ means later.”

Harry moans and pushes back, wanting more. 

Louis slides a lubed finger in him with no warning. Harry whimpers and says, “Feels so good, thought about this the whole show.”

“Greedy for it, aren’t you?” Louis asks, as he slides a second finger in alongside the first, maybe a few seconds too soon. 

“Yeah, Lou, only for you, though,” Harry grits out, as Louis scissors his fingers inside him. 

“I know, baby. Gonna ride me? That’s what you said a kilt was good for, yeah?” Louis asks, sliding in a third finger and grazing Harry’s prostate for the first time. 

Harry throws his head back and keens. “Yeah, Lou, want to, _fuck_ , m’ready.”

Louis pushes his fingers back in. “You’re not.” 

“I am,” he whines. 

“No.” 

Louis reaches around and gets a hand on Harry’s cock for the first time all night, and twists up in a firm grip, relishing the sounds falling from Harry’s lips. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, baby, and I’m not done testing out kilt access. Be patient.” 

Harry hangs his head and Louis can see the beads of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. He bends down and licks from the top of Harry’s shoulder to his ear, and whispers, “Look so pretty, can’t wait to get you on top of me.” 

“Please, Lou, please, m’ready, I promise,” Harry pants. 

“Okay,” Louis concedes, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. He shucks off his joggers and gets back on the bed, settling back onto the pillows from earlier. 

He notices Harry hasn’t moved, hands still twisted into the sheets, bent over the bed. “Waiting for something, H? An engraved invitation?” He would be lying if he said he didn’t love the blush creeping up Harry’s neck as he quickly climbs on to the bed. 

Harry bends down and wraps his lips around the head of Louis’ cock, swirling his tongue, before taking him halfway down in one go. 

Louis moans, realizing for the first time how truly turned on he is. 

“Fuck, baby, feels amazing, you’re so good, can’t fucking wait to get in you.” 

Harry moans around his cock, the vibrations making his hips buck up. Harry pulls off on a sputter, but Louis can see his blown pupils. 

“Lube, Lou,” he croaks, holding out a hand, closing his fingers around the bottle Louis hands him. He squirts some out into his palm, slicking up Louis’ cock.

He gathers his kilt into one hand while he straddles Louis and uses his other hand to hold Louis’ cock steady, moaning as he slowly sinks down, pausing at the bottom to adjust. 

Louis runs his hands up Harry’s thighs, first over the kilt and then under, scraping lightly with his fingernails, making Harry shudder slightly. “Really do look so good, baby. Love this look on you, more than I thought I would.” 

“That’s verra kind of you to say,” Harry says, leaning away from the swat Louis tries to land on his arm, and giggles. 

“Harry, did the aunties not teach you more than three words? Might need to call them for additional pointers if you’re going to try and keep that up.” 

Harry huffs, “Fine, I’ll stop.” He lifts himself up and then slides back down, testing the angle, then whispers, “Verra rude, though.” 

Louis punches his hips up. “I heard that.”

Harry rocks back a little and wiggles his hips, before rising up on his knees and lowering himself back down quickly, building to a pace that has them both sweating quickly. He props one hand behind him on Louis’ thigh, and reaches up with the other one to pinch his own nipples. 

Louis growls and knocks his hand away, immediately taking Harry’s nipple between two of his own fingers. “I’ll do that, thank you.” 

Left with a free hand, Harry reaches up and underneath his kilt to stroke his own cock in time with his bouncing, finally at an angle that hits his prostrate on every thrust. 

“H,” Louis gasps. “Not gonna last long, not with you looking like sin on top of me.”

“M’close, too,” Harry breathes, increasing his pace, thighs burning. 

He closes his eyes and throws his head back, willing Louis to follow him over the edge as he comes with a shout, spilling over his hand. He drags himself up and down Louis’ cock a few more times, before Louis is digging his fingers into Harry’s hips, holding him in place as he spills into him. 

They breathe heavily for a few moments, before Harry speaks. “Um, Lou? Can you maybe lift this thing up? I really hope I didn’t get come on it.” 

Louis laughs and does as asked. “I _think_ you’re safe, but hold still, let me get a tissue for you.”

It takes a couple minutes to get the kilt off and cleaned up, and then they’re spooning, naked, Louis behind Harry, as it should be. 

“So,” Louis starts. “Should we send the aunties a thank you card?”

“Margaret and Jackie,” Harry corrects. 

“Should we send Margaret and Jackie a thank you card?” Louis amends. 

Harry snorts. “We could, they’d probably frame it. They did tell me to let them know if you wanted one, too, Lou.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://softgolfdaddy.tumblr.com), or reblog the [fic post](http://softgolfdaddy.tumblr.com/post/167100494426/saving-it-for-later-by-domeaspreadsheet-louis) if you liked it!


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